Chance Meeting
by AlyssKingsleigh
Summary: Sequel to "The Mouse". New chapter!
1. Chapter 1

Six months. Six long, peaceful, wonderful months. That's how long it had been since their return to England after the Avenger's initiative. Earth had been saved, and they were home again. Molly smiled to herself as she stepped out of the morgue and locked the door behind herself. Life had gone back to normal fairly quickly; so quickly that it was almost surprising to her. She had expected to feel a little shell shocked or something like that when she returned to normal life.

It had been nothing like that.

In a way, she was glad. It was nice to be able to slide back into things easily and pick up where you left off. But at the same time, Molly was a little disappointed. She had hoped to feel different somehow. After all, she had been a part of the team that just saved the world. Her role in things had been relatively small; the only reason that she and John had been there at all was because Sherlock had insisted that he couldn't work properly without them.

Still. She had stood up to a nearly immortal, very bad tempered Asguardian prince who had insulted her in almost every way possible and come away from the encounter almost completely unscathed.

That had to count for something.

But the fact still remained that Molly Hooper didn't _feel_ any different, and that sort of bothered her.

She squinted as she stepped out onto the street. The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds, and it was about as bright as a late afternoon sun could be.

Speaking of cranky Asguardian princes; she often wondered what had happened to Loki. His brother had taken him home to Asguard to be tried and punished for his crimes, and no one had heard how things had turned out. Molly felt rather sorry for him. Of course, what he had done was unacceptable under any circumstances, but she was certain that he was acting out of a need for attention. Molly didn't pretend to know his whole story; she knew very little of that, but she had a learned a thing or two about deduction in all her time spent working with Sherlock.

Just then, someone on the far side of the street caught her eye. All she really of saw of him was a familiar pair of eyes, and a flash of dark hair. Their eyes met for a second; she blinked, and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Molly shook her head and continued on her way home. As she was reaching the door to her apartment, her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket. Slipping her keys back into her purse, she pulled the phone out and read the message.

_At the flat. Come immediately. – SH_

She sighed. _"I have a life, you know,"_ she thought. However, she was used to it. Sherlock knew that she couldn't ever bring herself to say no to him, and he often used that to his advantage. "This had better be important," Molly muttered under her breath.

Her phone buzzed again.

_No time to waste. Come right now. – SH_

She stepped down to the curb and hailed a cab.

…

Except for a sleek black car parked at the curb that Molly didn't recognize, it didn't look as though much was going on at 221B Baker Street. After paying the cabby, she rang the bell and stepped back to wait.

Mrs. Hudson came to the door almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for her; which was probably true. Sherlock could keep everyone on edge when he was in a mood. "Knock first," Mrs. Hudson cautioned. "You're less likely to be scolded."

Molly nodded and headed up the stairs. She stopped at the door and as she raised her hand to knock, she heard the variously frazzled and annoyed voices of the people within. John answered the door, looking more tired than usual.

"What's going on?" Molly asked, lowering her voice.

John ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Mycroft is here." He paused and then added, "Along with Director Fury."

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why?"

John just shook his head. "It's quite a messy business."

Just then, Sherlock noticed Molly's presence at the door. "Molly, did you bring the autopsy results?"

She stared at him. "What?"

"The results! I need them right away."

Molly frowned. "You could have told me that before I came all the way over here." She tried to sound as annoyed as she felt, but it seemed as though whenever she wanted to sound commanding or anything of the sort, it always came out in a squeak or soft whisper.

"Sherlock, if you would just listen for two minutes," Mycroft began, looking very irked indeed.

"For goodness sake, Mycroft, I'm in the middle of a case just now!" Sherlock exclaimed, cutting his brother off. "Molly, I need that file immediately," and then addressing his brother again, "You and Director Fury will need to sort this problem out on your own for the time being, I have bigger fish to fry."

The arguing picked up again, and John looked as though he wanted to bury his head in some sand. Molly sighed.

"I'll be back with the file shortly," she said.

John nodded. "Let me know when you're coming and I'll let you in."

She was off again, down the stairs and out of the building. It was a relief to be out in the fresh air again, away from the chaos inside. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good by the looks of it. She sighed.

Coming back out of the hospital, Molly noticed clouds gathering on the horizon as the sun set. Perhaps it was going to rain. She rounded the corner of the building and ran straight into someone, causing her to drop the paper work and her purse. She exclaimed in surprise and then went straight into several repeated apologies as she bent to pick up her things.

As she straightened again, she noticed that the person whom she had just collided with was still standing there, and he was studying her rather intently.

She opened her mouth to apologize again, but had to quickly shut it again as she recognized his face. He was dressed like anyone else on the London street, but there was no mistaking those eyes and the perfectly styled black hair. She took a step back, unsure of whether to scream and run as fast as she could, or to just nod and move on quietly.

"Hello, little mouse," he said quietly. His greeting didn't sound scornful in tone, but she couldn't be sure if it was meant to be an insult or not.

"Hello," she said, looking at him warily.

He stood for a few moments longer, looking at her. Molly hoped that she didn't look as frightened and startled as she felt. People passed by around them, going about their business as if nothing odd was going on at all, and she wished that she could join them.

Finally, without saying another word, Loki moved past her, and disappeared into a group of people a little further down the street, leaving her with only a quiet glance that she didn't quite understand.

Molly watched him go; too stunned to move from where she was standing. Needless to say, Sherlock did not receive the files that he wanted for another hour at least.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had come up that morning as it always had, poking its head up over the horizon and shedding light on the still mostly sleeping city. It had found Molly Hooper very hard at work, though; plugging away in the lab, working on an autopsy for Sherlock. He had phoned her at four-thirty that morning, asking her to come to the morgue. He was in the middle of a case, fishing for a good lead, and Sherlock never slept on a case.

Of course, this led him to assume, or at least act like he assumed, that no one else slept while he was working on a case either. This habit of his irked her, but at least she had coffee to keep her company in the wee hours of the morning; and the rest of the day, for that matter. Thank goodness for coffee.

Brushing a strand of hair off of her face, Molly glanced down at her watch. It was now nearing seven o'clock. Any minute now, John would stop in to retrieve the results for Sherlock. She wasn't quite done yet, but perhaps he would stay and have a chat with her while she finished up. Coffee was wonderful, but it was quite dull business trying to have a rational conversation with coffee. It just didn't work that way.

There was a noise at the door. Molly looked up sharply, but there was no one there. She waited a moment, to see if anything would happen. Nothing did.

She went back to her work.

Five minutes later, she heard a noise at the door again. Looking up, she saw a shadow on the other side of the door, peering in through the glass, watching her. The scalpel that she had been holding clattered to the floor, narrowly missing her feet, and she jumped.

As she fumbled about for it, she looked up again. The shadow was gone. "You've had too much coffee, Molly" she said to herself. "You're seeing things." But there was still a nagging edge of fear in the corner of her mind.

The footsteps in the hall nearly startled her again, but then the door opened and John appeared. He looked like he was in a hurry. "Good morning Molly," he said. "Sherlock sent me for the results, and to apologize for getting you up at such an unreasonable time."

"Really?" Molly asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding too shaky. She raised an eyebrow.

"No, but I thought it would be proper to apologize for his thoughtlessness." John was obviously annoyed with Sherlock as well.

"Thank you John," she said, smiling a little. "I ought to be done within the hour. It would have been done sooner, but I fell asleep around five-thirty and didn't wake up until six-fifteen. But don't tell him that."

John chuckled. "Don't worry." He turned to go.

The frantic feeling in the pit of her stomach rose to her throat. Perhaps if John stayed, she would be safe. No one would try to bother her if John was around.

"John," she called, "stay. I'll be done with the autopsy in about twenty minutes, and you can take the results to Sherlock yourself. I can make some coffee, if you like."

John smiled. "Coffee sounds lovely, Molly, but I'll have to take a rain check. We're meeting with Lestrade in fifteen minutes, and I need to be there." He paused. "Molly… is everything…alright?"

Molly swallowed, trying not to think about the shadow at the door. "Yes, everything is fine."

John didn't look quite convinced, but he nodded. "Okay. Text me if you need anything; I'll do what I can."

She nodded, and then he left.

Twenty minutes passed smoothly and quietly, with no more disturbances, but Molly still felt as though something or someone was watching her. It was altogether a very uncomfortable feeling.

Just as she was gathering up the paperwork and her things to leave, the door swung open quietly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, tall and quiet.

Molly took a few steps back and reached for her scalpel slowly, all the while watching him with a wary eye. "What do you want?" she asked. Her voice shook slightly, but her head was high and her eyes did not look too _very _frightened.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Miss Hooper," he said, taking a step into the room.

She started and whipped the scalpel out in front of herself, brandishing it threateningly. He raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender.

"The cat has been declawed," he said. "I have no power here." He stepped forward again, and she stepped back. "I'm not here to hurt you," he repeated.

Slowly, but still watching him warily, she put the scalpel down. "What do you want with me?"

"They know that you saw me."

Molly was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"The Elder Homes and the director of the SHEILD agency. They know that you saw me."

"So you've come here to hush me up?" She reached for the scalpel again.

Loki stepped back, holding up his hands. "Not like that."

She gave him a curious look.

"I came to ask you not to tell them where you saw me, or about this meeting."

"Why should I do that?" She started to edge around him towards the door, clutching her things against her chest tightly.

"Because I need your help."

Molly paused. "Why would you need my help? Why come to me? We're not exactly on the same side, you know."

"You're the only person that I know with the particular abilities that I require to accomplish my task. Naturally, my first thought would be to come to you. As for the fact that we are not on the same side, I believe you will find that we have a common enemy in this." He was watching her with that same quiet look that had been so unnerving to her the last time that they had run into each other.

"How do I know that what you say is true?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

Molly continued backing towards the door, and he made no move to stop her. In the doorway she paused again and said, "I'll have to think about it." Then she closed the door and hurried down the hall.

It wasn't until she was sitting in the cab that she realized that she was still clutching the scalpel in her hand. She was gripping it so tightly that her hand was shaking and her knuckles were turning white. Releasing the instrument, she sat back and sighed, trying to relieve herself of the pent up tension in the pit of her stomach.

When she thought about the incident later, it occurred to her that his asking her for help wasn't too terribly shocking. She was becoming used to egotistical sociopaths coming to her for help. What had really shocked her was the fact that it was the first time that he had called her by her own name.

**(Author's Note: Thank you guys for the lovely reviews! I don't really write very much, but you make me want to write more often. :) I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this yet, but I hope you all like it!)**


	3. Chapter 3

Two more days passed quietly, leaving Molly undisturbed by anymore outside forces. It gave her some breathing room to gather her thoughts and her wits together again. She couldn't shake the odd feeling that someone was watching her, though. Perhaps it was only paranoia, but it was an uncomfortable feeling all the same.

Sherlock had solved his case, and a sort of lull had followed it. Nobody had anything that needed solving at the moment, and the detective was getting restless. This was good for Molly; it meant two full nights of sleep without interruptions. Not so for John. A restless Sherlock at home was worse than a Sherlock up at all hours of the night working. She almost felt rather sorry for John.

Midafternoon of the second day, shortly after Molly had returned from lunch, there was a knock at the door.

Half expecting it to be Sherlock searching for a case, she called, "Come in," without looking up from her work.

The door opened and she heard someone enter.

"I haven't got any leads or cases for you, if that's what you're after," she said. "Have you checked the blog lately?"

Someone chuckled softly, and then a voice that was definitely not Sherlock's answered, "That's not exactly why I came."

She looked up quickly, saying "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't expecting…" Her words died on her lips.

"Weren't expecting _me_. Ah, I see."

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all," Molly said, backtracking a little. "I wasn't expecting _anyone._ Do you… do you always show up like this? Suddenly and unannounced?"

Loki frowned, shutting the door. "You can't expect a wanted war criminal to drop you a line every time he plans to pay you a visit."

An uncomfortable silence followed in which neither knew quite what to say or how to act. Finally, indicating a chair on the other side of the table at which she was working, Molly said, "You can sit down if you want."

He did, and she went back to work, glancing at him uneasily from time to time. It was completely silent again. She wondered why he did not speak; he seemed completely satisfied to sit there and just watch her working.

"No one knew what had happened," she said after a little while. "After you left; no one knew."

"Yes, well, Asguard isn't too good with interplanetary communication."

"Most people thought you were dead." She looked up from her work as she said it.

A shadow passed across his face, and his eyes darkened for a moment. "I ought to _be_ dead."

"What does that mean?" She pushed aside the microscope she had been working with gently.

Loki didn't answer at first, he seemed to be looking at something that she couldn't see and that pained him greatly. Then, the shadow cleared, and he looked at her again. "That's a story for another day." Another short silence, and he asked, "Did you think about what I asked?"

Molly nodded. "As much as was possible. I don't even know what you want, or what your purpose is in doing it, so how can you expect me to make decision?"

"Of course. Let me enlighten you." He paused, and then said, "Miss Hooper, I need to fake my death, and I need you to help me."

Molly just stared at him. This was not at all what she had been expecting. Well, to be truthful, she had no idea what she had been expecting, but this was definitely not it. "Why me?" She asked, forcing herself to make a coherent phrase out of her jumbled thoughts.

"Why you? What, because there are dozens of other qualified people in London? Yes, I could have gone to anyone else, but I chose you. Do you know why? Of course not, that's why you asked. Do you have such little faith in your skills? It's shameful." He paused mid rant and collected himself. Beginning again, with a much calmer and cooler tone, he said, "I chose you because you see people."

Molly looked confused. "Everybody sees people. Everyone that isn't blind, that is."

"Not like that. You don't just see people, you _see_ people. For what they are. I knew that if I came to you, I could trust you, and perhaps, you might even trust me."

"I've been fooled before."

"Your eyes weren't open then."

"I… I don't understand. It's like I'm talking to you; I _know_ that I'm talking to you, but it's like talking to someone else entirely." She couldn't say anything else for a few moments, and then, pulling herself together, she asked, "Why do you want to do this?"

"To have a second chance."

She nodded.

"Will you help me?"

Before she even knew that she was speaking, she had said yes. A very dazed Molly left work early that day with every intention of having a cup of tea and a long nap to clear her head. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

…

Molly entered her apartment and locked the door. Walking through to the kitchen, she set her purse and keys down on the table and turned, looking for the tea kettle. It had a habit of misplacing itself.

"Hello Molly."

She jumped, whirled around, and found herself looking at the elder homes brother, who was sitting on her sofa looking very composed indeed; almost as if he were sitting on his own sofa in his own home. "Is no place sacred now?" Molly said, feeling exasperated and quite bewildered. "How did you get into my house?"

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow and asked, "Has someone else been bothering you?"

"No," she answered quickly. "No one's been bothering me."

He didn't look convinced. "Well, I came to inform you that Sherlock has a new case, and if there is any suspicious activity about the hospital you are to inform him immediately. It is a matter of _national security_. Do you understand?"

Molly nodded. "Of course." She couldn't help but feel that this was a very pointed message that he was delivering, and that feeling was enforced by the look that he gave her as he got up to leave. _We Know_, it seemed to say.

She didn't get any sleep that afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly didn't get much sleep that night, either. True to what Mycroft had said, Sherlock did indeed have a new case; in fact, he had been _swamped_ with cases. It was all very sudden, and as a consequence, Molly found that she now practically lived at the morgue.

It generally wasn't lonely work, though. The consulting detective and John were often there with her, and once in a while Lestrade would pop by to see their progress or offer a lead.

The only time that Molly really had to herself was her lunch hour (sometimes) and the very early hours of the morning, when Sherlock and John would go back to Baker Street and work from there. She wondered if this was an attempt on Mycroft's part to keep an eye on her. Keeping her under Sherlock's near constant supervision was certainly a brilliant move; if something was amiss he would definitely notice it.

A week passed in which no sign of Loki appeared. She figured that he had noticed the increased activity at the morgue and had stayed away out of caution. It was a smart move on his part, but it left her in a constant state of agitation. There was no way of knowing where or when he would pop up next, and if he showed up at the morgue one day while Sherlock and John were there, she would be in heaps of trouble.

Getting into trouble wasn't the only thing that worried her now, though. Neither was being harmed in any way. The times that Molly had run into Loki, he had shown a marked lack of aggression and she still had absolutely no idea what the reason for this change in behavior was. It was all very intriguing, and if he _had_ experienced a change of heart, it was still almost certain that no one would believe it. What would be done to him if _he_ were caught was what worried her.

Loki's case was of interest to her for more than just the circumstances and facts surrounding him. He was more than just a collection of observable objects and traits. He was a person with thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams; a life. A life that was seeking a chance at what everyone else sought after. A chance to _live_.

Perhaps that's what he had always been looking for, but he had gone looking in the wrong way, and in doing so, had spoiled his chance.

It made her sad, thinking about it.

At the end of the week, what she had dreaded began to materialize. About an hour before her lunch break, the shadow fell across the door. Molly saw it, and her heart nearly stopped. Looking as calm as she could, she glanced at Sherlock and John, who were both working with some test results.

To Molly's great relief, neither had noticed. Glancing towards the door again, she saw that his shadow was gone.

Grabbing her pad of sticky notes and a pen, she scribbled down a quick message.

_It's not safe. Meet me in the cafeteria in an hour. Bring something to read and wear something that will hide your face._

She glanced at Sherlock and John again. They still looked quite busy. Now she just needed an excuse to go over to the door. Her eye landed on her purse, sitting on a chair near the door. Her phone was in there. Perfect.

Molly walked over and began to search through her bag until she found her phone. She pulled it out, but it accidentally slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor near the door.

"Are you alright, Molly?" John asked. Sherlock just glanced at her and then returned to work.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered, slipping the note onto the floor as she retrieved her phone, and then sliding it under the door with her foot as she straightened. John didn't seem to have noticed.

As she returned to her place, Sherlock said, "Molly, what was that?"

Fear leapt into throat again, but she tried her best to mask it. "What was what?"

"You slid something under the door a moment ago."

"I was picking up my phone, Sherlock."

He looked at her sharply. "Is that all?"

"Yes," she answered, turning back to her work. She could feel him still staring at her for a moment longer, and then he turned away also. The hour passed slowly, but when it was up, Molly shakily gathered up her things and headed out the door.

The hospital cafeteria was bustling with people when she arrived. The lines were long and there was not much seating available. People were milling about, stopping to chat with friends on their way in or out. After receiving and paying for her meal, she glanced around for a place to sit.

That was when she spotted him. He was seated at a small corner table, the sleeves of his white button down shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a gray fedora pulled down over his eyes as though he were sleeping. A large newspaper lay unfolded on the table in front of him.

She hurried over and asked him if the seat across from him was taken.

Looking up, he answered that it wasn't.

She smiled and slid into the seat, setting her food down and pulling a book out of her purse. "Thanks," she said, opening the book.

"Don't mention it," he answered, picking up his paper.

There was silence for a moment, and then Molly began, without looking up, "It was dangerous to come here."

"I know."

"We could get in a lot of trouble."

"I know."

"You're willing to risk it?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

His paper hid his face, but she could hear the strain in his voice as he answered, "Yes, everything."

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," she said softly. "Goodness knows that little me can't hurt you."

He looked at her over the top of his paper, and she could see the pained frown in his eyes. She thought he would say something in answer to her comment, but instead he said, "A man who has been wrongly accused and is then acquitted may be allowed to reenter society, but his name will always be slightly tarnished. A criminal who is accused justly will have his name ruined. Even if he is shown mercy, or if he leaves his old self behind him, his name will always bar him from the people he loves. Their names will also be tarnished."

He paused to take a sip of his coffee, and she waited for him to continue.

"Even if my family forgave me, their people would not. Your people would not. The name of Loki will always carry its negative connotation. As long as Loki lives, he is hunted. He is a burden to his family, and to himself. There is no peace while he lives. But if he dies, then they are free, and I am free."

"That doesn't seem quite fair to them," Molly said, although she was beginning to understand things a bit better now.

"They will grieve," he said, "but it will pass, and their attention will be turned to more important matters. It will secretly be a relief."

Neither said anything more for the rest of the meal. As she got up to leave, Molly slid another note to him across the table. This one read: _London Bridge. A week from today. I will arrange everything._

Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, but she did not pull away sharply, the way he had expected her to do. She stood, looking calmly down at him with a look of quiet determination and compassion. Not for the last time did he find himself marveling at the appearance of fragility that masked such a strong heart.

After a moment, she turned to go, and he picked his paper up again.


End file.
